


Deal Breaker

by dedkake



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angry Sex, Blood, Guns, Knives, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gang leader Erik has a serious disagreement with Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deal Breaker

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Deal Breaker](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112226) by [dedkake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake), [zandrov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zandrov/pseuds/zandrov)



> Originally prompted and posted [here](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/8700.html?thread=20177404#t20177404). Just felt like touching up some things I wrote for the kink meme.

Erik feels like he’s been cheated, which, of course, he has been, but now it feels like he’s been cheated _twice_. All he’s wanted to do all day is tell someone to bring him Charles Xavier’s ass, except that isn’t something an innocent man says while being interrogated by the police for six hours. And now he’s finally gotten away, only to find that Xavier is already in the den of Erik’s favorite apartment waiting for him.

Janos and Azazel automatically bring their guns up, ready to take Xavier out at Erik’s command. But Xavier is leaning back in one of the armchairs, his fingers locked behind his head and his ankles crossed delicately in front of him. He paints the perfect picture of vulnerability, and yet somehow makes it threatening with the all confidence he’s exuding. It shouldn’t be possible, especially because he’s done them the service of leaving his gun on the coffee table, out of his reach, but Xavier still seems to think he’s in control of the situation.

“Leave us,” Erik barks, not even watching as Janos and Azazel slip outside.

As soon as the door is closed, Xavier says, “We had a deal.”

Yes, they’d had a deal, but it certainly hadn’t involved Xavier ratting him out to the police. Erik draws his gun and levels it at Xavier’s chest, focusing all his pent up anger down to that one point above his heart. “I’m the one who makes the deals, Xavier, you’re just along for the ride, or have you forgotten?” he asks. It would be so easy to pull the trigger, to be done with all of this. If it were anyone else, Erik would most certainly have killed them already. But it’s not. It’s Charles fucking Xavier, and Erik needs him alive.

“No,” Xavier says, his cool smile finally melting away to anger. “You’re the one who seems to have forgotten. You can use my school, you can use me, but you aren’t allowed to use my students. Not for anything.”

“I make the rules, not you,” Erik says, advancing slowly toward Xavier’s chair. He keeps his hands steady on his gun, despite his own anger.

Something flashes in Xavier’s eyes and Erik watches with satisfaction as Xavier’s fingers tighten in his hair, the muscles in his arms flexing rebelliously as he restrains himself from whatever action he’d really like to take. He doesn’t say anything, though, just braces his feet on the floor, shoulder width apart, as Erik halts a foot in front of him.

“Angel came to me, not the other way around,” Erik says, although he really shouldn’t have to explain himself at all.

Xavier’s lip curls. “Then you should have turned her away! She’s fifteen, for god’s sake!” he says, voice low but forceful.

The heated silence between them is almost palpable and Erik tightens his grip on his gun against it. “She didn’t get caught. No one even knows she was there. You shouldn’t have gone to the police,” Erik says, surprised that his voice remains mostly clear of his anger.

“What I gave them was irrelevant. They still don’t have anything solid on you,” Xavier says dismissively, sounding more than ever like the spoiled child Erik knows he is.

“I should kill you,” Erik says, shuffling further into Xavier’s space.

Xavier’s jaw snaps shut as he locks their gazes again. Slowly, he rises, standing so that Erik’s gun brushes against his chest, never looking away. “Do it, then,” he says, dropping his hands to rest on Erik’s and the gun. “Kill me, and you can walk away and never worry about me again. And you should worry, if you don’t, because I swear to god that if you ever even think of touching my kids again, it won’t just be one blurry photo I take to the police.”

Erik should do it. It’ll be a hassle to dispose of Xavier’s body, and an even bigger hassle to find a replacement, because there is no one else like Charles Xavier, but it would all be better than having that threat hanging over his head. Xavier knows too much, has too much leverage, and apparently not enough of a self-preservation instinct to keep quiet about it. He’s a thorn in Erik’s side and that’s all that should matter. Except that it’s not all that matters. And Erik’s not sure he can be the one to pull the trigger. He’s not even sure he can be the one to order a hit.

“You need me, my friend,” Xavier says after a moment, and that’s it. That’s all Erik can take.

With one quick move, Erik shakes Xavier’s hands away and whips his gun sharply across Xavier’s face. Xavier falls back into his chair with a pained groan, his hands coming up to his face in his first real show of weakness. Reaching down with one hand, Erik hauls Xavier back up to his feet.

“You don’t make demands of me,” Erik spits, leaning in close to Xavier’s face and shoving his gun against Xavier’s temple. “You don’t go to the cops. You don’t take any more photos. And you don’t break into my fucking house.”

The side of Xavier’s face is already starting to swell, glowing red in the dim light, a thin line of blood dripping from a small gash. Despite the injury and the gun, Xavier looks defiant. “Is that a promise?” he asks, fingers grabbing for Erik’s shirt.

Erik growls and shoves Xavier back into his chair, tossing his gun onto the nearby couch. He doesn’t need it anymore. He aims one more punch to Xavier’s face before falling into the chair on top of him and pulling Xavier’s head back by the hair, kissing him fiercely, without mercy. Xavier groans again, his hands coming up to dig into Erik’s back as his mouth opens easily under the assault.

This is easy, familiar, and Erik finds himself stupidly pleased with the way Xavier falls apart beneath him like this. He could fall into the routine of it like he would any other Tuesday, pull Xavier on top of him, watch Xavier ride him, hold off his release until Xavier is begging for it—but the anger is still there, burning under his skin. So instead, he pulls himself off of Xavier and maneuvers them both to the floor, not at all careful.

Xavier’s head cracks against the hardwood floor on the way down and he blinks dazedly through it, the smile that had been forming on his lips gone completely. It doesn’t take much effort for Erik to flip him over, force his face down into the floor. He holds him there by his neck, pulls his hips up and drags his pants down just enough. When Erik looks, he can see Xavier watching him over his shoulder, his eyes hard, and it makes him think of the last time, when Xavier had pressed their foreheads together, sweaty and warm, and watched the whole way through.

“Do it,” Xavier says, an echo of his earlier challenge. Heat spikes sharp through Erik at that, and he briefly considers abandoning Xavier to grab his gun again. But Erik’s not going to turn down the invitation, no matter what Xavier thinks he’s implying by it.

It takes some effort to undo his own pants, and even more to find the condom in his wallet with just one hand. It’s difficult even to think of anything with the way Xavier holds his gaze, the way he reaches around to spread himself open for Erik, his fingers already pushing inside in his eagerness. The display is so perfect, Erik doubts for a moment that he’ll last long enough to do anything with it, but Xavier’s lip pulls back and he snarls, “Do it now, Erik.”

Erik growls and sinks in, mindless of Xavier’s fingers alongside him. “Don’t call me Erik,” he says into Xavier’s ear, his chest catching the reverberation of Xavier’s full body groan.

Xavier simply closes his eyes and moves with Erik, not bothering to keep his pleasure quiet. “I’ll call you whatever I want when you’ve got your cock in my ass,” he says after a moment, voice rough with pleasure and strain.

“Wrong,” Erik gets out, shoving Xavier’s face down again with more force than entirely necessary. There’s silence between them for a moment, silence aside from their gasps for air. Erik holds Xavier down, keeps as still as he can as he waits for a response. This is about power as much as it is about pleasure, and clearly Xavier is having a hard time figuring that out.

Soon enough, Erik grows tired of waiting and thrusts forward hard, enjoying the gasp it draws from Xavier. And that’s all it really takes. “Fine,” Xavier says, pushing back with his hips, clenching his jaw against the floor and the obvious pain of it, “ _Magnus_.”

It takes all Erik has not to come at just that, but manages himself despite it. “Better,” he says, low and in Xavier’s ear again, pressing against him fully. He reaches down and pulls at Xavier’s cock as he resumes his pace, determined to get Xavier off first, ready to see his face break with it. That’s the best part, more satisfying than anything else, and Erik will have it today.

Xavier comes with a breathy groan, curling up under Erik’s hands, fingers scratching hard at the floor, eyes squeezed shut and brow furrowed. He looks perfect like that, melting against the floor under Erik, melting enough that Erik can finally let go and trust he won’t move. He pulls out and pulls back to enjoy the view, peeling off his condom and stroking himself slowly. At least he tries for slow. He’s still too worked up and it doesn’t take long at all before he’s groaning and coming across Xavier’s back where his shirt and jacket have ridden up. He’s torn in that moment between holding Xavier’s stormy gaze and watching the new picture he’s painting on Xavier’s back.

The anger towards Xavier that’s been burning in Erik all day hasn’t gone away, he realizes, and he grabs for the knife he keeps in his boot, flips it open and rests the blade against Xavier’s back before the idea really registers. He wants to carve the knife into Xavier’s flesh, mark him with something more permanent than what he’s already done.

Beneath his blade, Xavier goes still, barely breathing at all, just glaring at Erik over his shoulder, still challenging him. It’s affecting him more than the gun had, more than Erik’s fist or cock had. There’s something raw and intimate about a knife that Erik favors over any other weapon. He adds some pressure and smiles as Xavier flinches and sucks in a breath that moves his back just enough to drag his skin against the blade. It’s not a bad wound by a long shot, probably won’t last more than two weeks, but Erik finds an odd sort of contentment settling in his stomach at the sight.

Wiping his blade off on Xavier’s jeans, Erik says, his tone still rough and low with sex, “Get out of here.”

Xavier doesn’t say anything as he staggers to his feet, adjusting his clothing as he goes. He doesn’t even look at Erik, but Erik can see the way he’s ginger on his feet, his slight wince as his shirt moves roughly across the cut on his back. Mostly, he just looks like Erik roughed him up a bit, with the wound on his face and his disheveled clothes, but Erik _knows_.

When Xavier turns to the mirror to fix his hair, Erik says, “I _will_ kill you the next time you go to the police.”

Still, he gets no response. Not until Xavier bends to retrieve his own gun from the table and slip it into his pants under his jacket does he even look at Erik. But when he does, he’s smiling again and Erik seethes.

“I’m sure you will,” Xavier says, his voice infuriatingly normal, “but next time you make me go to the police, I’m giving them everything.”

His life would be so much easier, Erik thinks, if he hadn’t ever met Charles Xavier. But it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting, either.


End file.
